Fic: "Secondhand" (Brothers & Sisters)
Happy birthday to nolivingman. I hope it's a wonderful day. :)
Five times in Kevin's life that Saul was there, with fiction. Thanks to romanticalgirl for the beta and likeadeuce for some spot-checking of the literary variety.
At Kevin's tenth birthday party, they had chocolate cake with white frosting, the whipped-cream kind that was so sweet it made your teeth ache from biting through the aliens and spacecraft sketched in sugar on its surface. It came from the grocery store, much to Nora's mortification, not because she didn't have the time to bake, or didn't want to, but because Kevin insisted at the top of his strident young voice that that was what he wanted.
“Contrary child,” Nora said with a faint smile, shifting Justin on her hip. “He gets that from his father.”
Saul had to laugh at that. “And William is always saying that Kevin is so much like you he wonders if he was involved at all.”
“He knows better than to say that to me,” she said dryly, glancing over at the pack of children oversaturating themselves with cake and lemonade. “Thank you for coming.”
“I never miss a party.”
“You know what I mean, Saul.” She sighed and shifted Justin to her other hip, tapping his chin with her finger when he fussed. “Thanks for standing in for William, since he apparently has better things to do.”
“Nora.” The lies slid off his tongue sweetly, easily, smooth and slightly bitter with long practice. “You know he'd be here if he could.”
“Yes.” She shook her head, smile back in place, bright and brave and cheerful, and he wondered again how much his sister saw, how much she chose not to see, how much she wiped from her mind at night when she took off her makeup. “Can you help me round up these children and get them back to the living room for party games? We have another half-hour to fill before their parents come.”
It was a good hour later by the time they were all gone, and Tommy had been sent to his room for telling Kevin his friends were a bunch of losers, and Justin was down for a nap and Kitty and Sarah had vanished out the door with cash in their hands to go to the movies as their reward for helping with the party games. Saul was more tired from that much child-wrangling than anything he could remember except the days when he and William had done the Ojai inventories personally. He'd been much younger then than he was now.
He poured the last of the lemonade into a glass and stepped into the living room, where Kevin was sitting on the couch, sorting through his presents. Saul had to smile, watching him--the utter seriousness on his face as he divided everything into neat categories. Action figures here and model kits here and one extremely ugly t-shirt that probably wasn't long for active use there.
“Thank you for the book, Uncle Saul,” he said, without looking up.
“You're welcome.” It was a cheap paperback edition of Robinson Crusoe, the cover bright and gaudy far out of proportion to the story inside. “It was one of my favorites when I was young.”
“I have to do a book report for school.” Kevin picked up the t-shirt and moved it over to the coffee table, and Saul hid a smile; no, that shirt wasn't going to last long at all. “I needed to find something good to read anyway.”
“Well, you'll have to let me know if you like it.”
Kevin looked up then, frowning slightly. “What did Dad have to do today, again?”
Saul's voice caught for a minute, the lies thrown off their course by the furrow of the boy's forehead, and his eyes, blue and sharp. William could make all the jokes he wanted, those were his eyes and for some reason that made this harder. “Some things for work.”
“Did he go up to Ojai?”
“No. He went into town.” Saul cleared his throat again as Kevin kept looking at him, too keenly, too knowing. “I should go see if your mother needs help cleaning up the kitchen.”
“I don't have to help, do I? It's my birthday.”
He had to laugh; just a kid after all. “No, you don't have to help. Enjoy your new toys.”
Kevin nodded and reached for one of the models, eyes turning to the bright package, dissolving the last shreds of that uneasy spell. Saul turned to go, stopping as Kevin spoke again, absently, as he tore the cardboard. “It's okay, Uncle Saul. You're just as good as Dad.”
**
The restaurant wasn't precisely designed with children in mind, and the maitre d' gave Kevin a measuring look as he escorted them to their table. Saul held his tongue; the Walker children were dragged to enough fancy events that Kevin knew perfectly well how to conduct himself here, and he hardly looked like trouble at the moment in a sweater-vest, shirt and tie, dark dress slacks, and polished shoes, with his hair parted on one side so sharply that the exposed scalp was still pink. Saul wondered if Nora had insisted or if Kevin had come up with that outfit himself. Either way, it fit the room perfectly.
The skeptical look on Kevin's face as he surveyed the restaurant made Saul want to chuckle, but he kept silent, turning his attention to the menu. "What are you having, Kevin?"
"I don't know. I don't even know how to pronounce this stuff. Kitty's the one taking French, I want to learn German."
Saul suspected there might have been a distinct cause and effect relationship there. "The descriptions are in English."
"Yeah, but I'll sound like an idiot when I order." Kevin looked around the room again, frowning slightly. "This place is a lot fancier than I thought. When Mom takes us to places like this, there are death threats in the car first."
Saul did let himself chuckle finally. "I'm not big on threats."
"Yeah. I guess that's true." Kevin tugged at his tie and turned his frown back to the menu. Saul watched him across the table, the way his face animated every thought he had as he read, nose wrinkling or eyebrows raising in consideration.
"Is this my birthday present?" he asked abruptly, looking up from the menu.
Saul took a careful sip of water. "Not exactly a present, but it's for your birthday, yes."
Kevin's eyes narrowed slightly, dissecting that, and Saul thought, not for the first time, that if the boy held on to his ambition to be a lawyer, many perfectly good lawsuits were doomed. "Because I'm thirteen, right? I told Mom I didn't want to do any of that bar mitzvah stuff."
"And you're not." Clearly, Saul thought, fighting back another smile at the grim pleasure that crossed Kevin's face at the affirmation that he'd had his own way. "Still, this is an important birthday. Traditionally, it's the age of manhood. I thought that should be recognized."
"With dinner."
"Well, you didn't want to read the Talmud."
"No. I'd rather read the Tolkien." Kevin looked possessive for a moment, probably thinking of the set of books Saul had given him in the car, then chewed on his lower lip and studied Saul. "Did you do this for Tommy?"
Saul nodded, careful to keep his expression neutral, clear of any thought about the tension reported from the Walker house lately, Tommy and Kevin having it out over privileges and maturity and favoritism, the employment of words learned at school that led to both of them getting grounded for, possibly, the rest of their natural lives. "Of course."
"But I bet you didn't bring him here."
"Well. No." Saul looked around the room and tried to imagine how that meal would have gone. Extreme discomfort for all parties involved, at a minimum.
Kevin lifted his chin in triumph. "Because he would act like a jackass in a place like this."
Saul blinked slowly. "I suppose it's possible. He might even forget to watch his language."
"Oh. Sorry." Kevin looked down at the menu again. "Is the duck good?"
"It's excellent."
"Okay." He pushed the menu away and took a drink of his own water. "Are you coming to the baseball game tomorrow?"
"No." Again Saul schooled his expression, careful not to let slip any hint of unless your father cancels at the last minute and hands off the tickets, of course. William was much more considerate than that. Nine times out of ten, anyway. "That's your dad's present to you."
Kevin shrugged. "Tommy's coming too. And I don't even like baseball."
"Still. It's a chance for you three to have some time together."
"I know. It'll probably be fun." He shrugged again and poked the centerpiece with his fork. "Just, you know, you could come too, if you wanted."
"We'll see." Saul signaled the waitress and smiled at his nephew. "Don't worry about it tonight. It's your birthday. Celebrate."
**
The front door slammed and Saul looked up, startled, just in time to see a blur pass the kitchen door. "Hello?"
The reply from the living room was an incoherent mumble, and Saul sighed, dried his hands, and went to investigate. "Hello, Kevin."
"Hi." Kevin was lying on the couch, glaring at the ceiling, face red and jaw tight and voice wavering slightly under the required politeness. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." Saul watched him for a moment and then glanced over at the front door. "How did you get here?"
"Mom dropped me off. She's taking Justin to his swim class." Kevin's eyes were still fixed firmly on a point on the ceiling. "Sorry."
"It's all right. I told you you could come over here whenever you wanted." Kevin nodded stiffly and hugged one of the couch pillows against his chest. Saul rubbed his forehead and debated leaving him alone before finally asking "What's got you so upset?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay." Saul nodded and stepped back. "I'll be in the office if you need anything. If you decide to watch TV, keep the volume down."
He went to his office and flipped through a few files, skimming and making notes in the margins but mostly listening for sound from the hall and keeping track of how much time had passed. If it got to twenty-five minutes he would go back out and offer snack food as an inducement.
At eighteen and a half minutes, though, there was a soft tap on the door and Kevin looked in. "Can I get a book?"
"Of course." Saul nodded and looked back down at his file as Kevin crossed over to the set of shelves that held Saul's collection of fiction, shorter and less sturdy than the heavy oak pieces stuffed with business texts and boxes of files, but considerably more appealing.
"Are any of these good?" Kevin asked, running his fingers over the bindings. Saul carefully hid a smile and reached for another folder.
"I tend to think they are, yes, which is why I keep them."
"Which one should I read?"
"What are you in the mood for?"
"I don't know. Something good."
Saul put his pen down and folded his hands on the desk. Kevin was frowning at the shelf like the books themselves were offending him. Saul often felt a familiar, sympathetic ache when he looked at his nephew, these days; he remembered being plagued by acne, furious with his body's awkwardness, convinced that the entire world was conspiring against him, and wanting nothing more than to be able to hide somewhere and lock the door. Of course, locked doors weren't allowed in William and Nora's house.
"You're fifteen now, Kevin?"
Kevin glanced at him, startled and defensive. "Yeah. Why?"
"No reason." Saul picked up his pen again. "Is the problem at home or at school?"
Kevin laughed a little, harsh and unhappy. "Everywhere. Everybody. It's like I'm an alien or...or I'm Charlton Heston in The Omega Man and they're all trying to get me."
"The bad guys in that movie were called The Family, weren't they?"
Kevin sighed and smacked his palm against the shelf. "It's not that, not them exactly, it's just...I don't know, I just wanted to be left alone for a while, without people digging at me and..."
Saul nodded and dropped his eyes to the file again. "Point taken."
"No." Kevin finally turned to face him. "No, that's not what I meant, Uncle Saul. Not...you're not like that. You're not the problem." He glanced around the room, at the books and the desk and tall oak shelves. "It's always good over here. It's quiet."
Saul smiled. "I prefer quiet too." Kevin managed a small smile back, and a nod, and Saul glanced at the shelf again. "You should try the Raymond Chandler. Start with The Big Sleep. If you like it, we'll watch the movie sometime."
"Bogart, right?"
"Yes." Saul made a note on his file as Kevin grabbed the book and moved over to the chair by the window. "I'll drive you home when you're ready. Take as long as you like."
**
Nora let Saul in, whispering "Thank you" and glancing warily first back over her shoulder toward the living room and then up the stairs. The house was unusually and, to Saul's mind, ominously silent.
"Is he upstairs?" Saul asked quietly.
"Kevin or William?"
"Kevin." At this particular moment Saul didn't give a good goddamn where William was one way or another.
"Yes. He's in his room." She laughed, a small and shaky sound, and pushed her hair back from her face. "When I knocked on the door he informed me that he's never coming out of his room again."
Saul could hear the mimicry around the emphasis in her voice, could imagine Kevin shouting that from his position of retreat. "He's upset, Nora."
"I know that," she snapped, looking up the stairs again. "He's my son, I think I can tell when he's upset even when he doesn't slam the door in my face, or even if I wasn't present for him and his father screaming at each other for a solid half an hour and saying the most awful..."
Saul rested his hand on her shoulder until she bowed her head, a soft sob escaping under her breath. "It'll be all right," he said quietly. "I'll talk to him, they'll both calm down...it'll be all right."
"They're both so..." She shook her head and he could see her steeling herself, straightening her spine and pulling the shaken pieces of herself together. "Well, thank you for coming."
"There was any doubt that I would?"
"Don't be ridiculous." She looked over her shoulder again and Saul could hear the TV being turned up louder, could picture William stabbing at the remote. "Just please go talk to him."
Saul tapped on the third door from the top of the stairs, and winced slightly at the raw, furious reply. "Go away."
"Kevin, it's Saul." He dropped the "uncle" reflexively; the boy was eighteen now, and if Saul could at all guess the tone of what William had said earlier, he'd be desperately in need of being treated like an equal instead of a wayward and rebellious child.
There was a long silence before the next words, softer and obviously thick with tears. "Just you?"
"Just me." Saul swallowed and looked at his hand, flat against the wood. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah. Okay."
Saul stepped into the room and carefully let his eyes track all the way around it--across the bookshelves and the window, over the history and calculus textbooks on the desk, the REM poster over the stereo and the scattered tapes and CDs that looked like they'd recently been thrown--before he looked at Kevin. He was lying on his side on the bed, turned toward the wall and hugging a pillow to his chest, his face carefully turned so it couldn't be seen.
Saul looked at the desk again and then walked over to it, tugging a paperback out from under the calculus book. "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead?"
"For English," Kevin mumbled thickly. "Mr. Townsend is cool, we get to read stuff like that." He coughed and turned onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. "Well, I think it's cool, but I'm a freak and a dork and a loser."
"Hmm." Saul flipped the book open and scanned a few pages. "What are you supposed to take out of it?"
"It's existentialism. Why are we here, why do we bother, what's the point." There was a slight pause, and Saul glanced over at him in time to catch a wobbly smile. "Or, well, I think he chose it because we just finished Hamlet and he wants to talk about the opposing structures."
"Ah." Saul set the book down and looked at him again, opening his mouth to ask a question, but Kevin kept talking, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
"But when we finish this, we're going to read The Big Sleep, which is cool because, you know, I've read it already, and I like it, and I bet I can come up with a good paper and everything."
"I'm sure you can."
"Maybe...maybe we could talk about it when I re-read it, or watch the movie again, or something."
"Absolutely."
Kevin glanced up at him, then looked down at the sheets. "I still have the copy you gave me. I have all of those books you've given me. They're like...what I read when I'm sad or whatever. Like old friends."
"I'm glad," Saul said quietly.
"I, um." Kevin's voice wavered and he coughed again, pressing his face hard against his arm for a moment. "I don't really want to talk about it yet, if that's okay? But if you wanted to stay here for a while, that would be...that would be good."
"Of course." Saul sat down in the desk chair and picked up the paperback again. "I'll stay as long as you like."
**
It was excessively sunny in the way that only a May morning in California could be, and Saul squinted out over the field of exuberant black-robed young people and their parents in pressed suits and floral dresses. The attendees of Stanford Law's graduation ceremonies seemed, by and large, to come from a standard mold.
But Stanford spared no expense on catering, which made a little bit of homogeneity more than worth it. Saul moved down the table filling up his plate, pausing when laughter came from behind him.
Kevin was standing with his robe folded over his arm, the purple hood of distinction cradled in the crook of his elbow. "Hungry, there, Uncle Saul? I thought Mom was making you all breakfast before you came up here today."
"She did," he replied, picking up a napkin, "but you have done the impossible, Kevin--she was so excited about your graduation, breakfast was completely inedible."
"Don't let her hear you say that." Kevin glanced back over his shoulder, looking for William and Nora in the crowd. "It's not that big a deal, really. I mean, I already graduated once. From here, even."
"If you're trying to get me to say again how impressive it is to have graduated double Stanford, Kevin, you're going to have to try harder."
"Except you just did, so I win." Kevin grinned and actually bounced on the balls of his feet before reaching over Saul's arm to grab a glass of lemonade.
Saul laughed. "They did a very good job of making you into a lawyer, clearly."
"That was the idea. But everybody says I was always like this."
Saul thought back through the years, picturing the succession of blue-eyed dark-haired boys Kevin had been, growing older but all with the same serious expression and stubborn will. "More or less, I suppose. You look more comfortable in a tie than you used to."
"I'm going to be wearing them for a long time." Kevin laughed and took a cheese cube from Saul's plate. "Did you see Dad after the ceremony? He ran over and shook my hand. I actually thought he was going to hug me for a minute."
"He's extremely proud." Kevin's grin grew even wider, and Saul returned it. "We all are."
"Dad told me there's a box of cigars with my name on it, back at the house. And Mom made a cake."
"I don't know if you can call it a cake. It may be beyond cake. The ur-cake." Saul shook his head and pulled a small wrapped package from under his jacket. "Sadly, I don't have anything edible or smokable, just this."
Kevin absently tucked the paper into his pocket as he unwrapped the present, laughing softly as he saw what it was. "To Kill A Mockingbird...is this a first edition? How would you possibly find a first edition?"
"I have my sources."
Kevin ran his thumb over the embossing on the cover. "You know I'm going into corporate law, so I'm probably not exactly going to be Atticus Finch."
"I don't have any worries at all about that."
Kevin looked at him for a moment, eyes sharp and blue and a little bright with tears, then stepped forward and hugged Saul tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Saul."
Saul patted his back and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a familiar twist of bittersweet pain in his chest--regret, love, loss, but today, mostly pride. "You're very welcome, my boy."
Five times in Kevin's life that Saul was there, with fiction. Thanks to romanticalgirl for the beta and likeadeuce for some spot-checking of the literary variety.
At Kevin's tenth birthday party, they had chocolate cake with white frosting, the whipped-cream kind that was so sweet it made your teeth ache from biting through the aliens and spacecraft sketched in sugar on its surface. It came from the grocery store, much to Nora's mortification, not because she didn't have the time to bake, or didn't want to, but because Kevin insisted at the top of his strident young voice that that was what he wanted.
“Contrary child,” Nora said with a faint smile, shifting Justin on her hip. “He gets that from his father.”
Saul had to laugh at that. “And William is always saying that Kevin is so much like you he wonders if he was involved at all.”
“He knows better than to say that to me,” she said dryly, glancing over at the pack of children oversaturating themselves with cake and lemonade. “Thank you for coming.”
“I never miss a party.”
“You know what I mean, Saul.” She sighed and shifted Justin to her other hip, tapping his chin with her finger when he fussed. “Thanks for standing in for William, since he apparently has better things to do.”
“Nora.” The lies slid off his tongue sweetly, easily, smooth and slightly bitter with long practice. “You know he'd be here if he could.”
“Yes.” She shook her head, smile back in place, bright and brave and cheerful, and he wondered again how much his sister saw, how much she chose not to see, how much she wiped from her mind at night when she took off her makeup. “Can you help me round up these children and get them back to the living room for party games? We have another half-hour to fill before their parents come.”
It was a good hour later by the time they were all gone, and Tommy had been sent to his room for telling Kevin his friends were a bunch of losers, and Justin was down for a nap and Kitty and Sarah had vanished out the door with cash in their hands to go to the movies as their reward for helping with the party games. Saul was more tired from that much child-wrangling than anything he could remember except the days when he and William had done the Ojai inventories personally. He'd been much younger then than he was now.
He poured the last of the lemonade into a glass and stepped into the living room, where Kevin was sitting on the couch, sorting through his presents. Saul had to smile, watching him--the utter seriousness on his face as he divided everything into neat categories. Action figures here and model kits here and one extremely ugly t-shirt that probably wasn't long for active use there.
“Thank you for the book, Uncle Saul,” he said, without looking up.
“You're welcome.” It was a cheap paperback edition of Robinson Crusoe, the cover bright and gaudy far out of proportion to the story inside. “It was one of my favorites when I was young.”
“I have to do a book report for school.” Kevin picked up the t-shirt and moved it over to the coffee table, and Saul hid a smile; no, that shirt wasn't going to last long at all. “I needed to find something good to read anyway.”
“Well, you'll have to let me know if you like it.”
Kevin looked up then, frowning slightly. “What did Dad have to do today, again?”
Saul's voice caught for a minute, the lies thrown off their course by the furrow of the boy's forehead, and his eyes, blue and sharp. William could make all the jokes he wanted, those were his eyes and for some reason that made this harder. “Some things for work.”
“Did he go up to Ojai?”
“No. He went into town.” Saul cleared his throat again as Kevin kept looking at him, too keenly, too knowing. “I should go see if your mother needs help cleaning up the kitchen.”
“I don't have to help, do I? It's my birthday.”
He had to laugh; just a kid after all. “No, you don't have to help. Enjoy your new toys.”
Kevin nodded and reached for one of the models, eyes turning to the bright package, dissolving the last shreds of that uneasy spell. Saul turned to go, stopping as Kevin spoke again, absently, as he tore the cardboard. “It's okay, Uncle Saul. You're just as good as Dad.”
**
The restaurant wasn't precisely designed with children in mind, and the maitre d' gave Kevin a measuring look as he escorted them to their table. Saul held his tongue; the Walker children were dragged to enough fancy events that Kevin knew perfectly well how to conduct himself here, and he hardly looked like trouble at the moment in a sweater-vest, shirt and tie, dark dress slacks, and polished shoes, with his hair parted on one side so sharply that the exposed scalp was still pink. Saul wondered if Nora had insisted or if Kevin had come up with that outfit himself. Either way, it fit the room perfectly.
The skeptical look on Kevin's face as he surveyed the restaurant made Saul want to chuckle, but he kept silent, turning his attention to the menu. "What are you having, Kevin?"
"I don't know. I don't even know how to pronounce this stuff. Kitty's the one taking French, I want to learn German."
Saul suspected there might have been a distinct cause and effect relationship there. "The descriptions are in English."
"Yeah, but I'll sound like an idiot when I order." Kevin looked around the room again, frowning slightly. "This place is a lot fancier than I thought. When Mom takes us to places like this, there are death threats in the car first."
Saul did let himself chuckle finally. "I'm not big on threats."
"Yeah. I guess that's true." Kevin tugged at his tie and turned his frown back to the menu. Saul watched him across the table, the way his face animated every thought he had as he read, nose wrinkling or eyebrows raising in consideration.
"Is this my birthday present?" he asked abruptly, looking up from the menu.
Saul took a careful sip of water. "Not exactly a present, but it's for your birthday, yes."
Kevin's eyes narrowed slightly, dissecting that, and Saul thought, not for the first time, that if the boy held on to his ambition to be a lawyer, many perfectly good lawsuits were doomed. "Because I'm thirteen, right? I told Mom I didn't want to do any of that bar mitzvah stuff."
"And you're not." Clearly, Saul thought, fighting back another smile at the grim pleasure that crossed Kevin's face at the affirmation that he'd had his own way. "Still, this is an important birthday. Traditionally, it's the age of manhood. I thought that should be recognized."
"With dinner."
"Well, you didn't want to read the Talmud."
"No. I'd rather read the Tolkien." Kevin looked possessive for a moment, probably thinking of the set of books Saul had given him in the car, then chewed on his lower lip and studied Saul. "Did you do this for Tommy?"
Saul nodded, careful to keep his expression neutral, clear of any thought about the tension reported from the Walker house lately, Tommy and Kevin having it out over privileges and maturity and favoritism, the employment of words learned at school that led to both of them getting grounded for, possibly, the rest of their natural lives. "Of course."
"But I bet you didn't bring him here."
"Well. No." Saul looked around the room and tried to imagine how that meal would have gone. Extreme discomfort for all parties involved, at a minimum.
Kevin lifted his chin in triumph. "Because he would act like a jackass in a place like this."
Saul blinked slowly. "I suppose it's possible. He might even forget to watch his language."
"Oh. Sorry." Kevin looked down at the menu again. "Is the duck good?"
"It's excellent."
"Okay." He pushed the menu away and took a drink of his own water. "Are you coming to the baseball game tomorrow?"
"No." Again Saul schooled his expression, careful not to let slip any hint of unless your father cancels at the last minute and hands off the tickets, of course. William was much more considerate than that. Nine times out of ten, anyway. "That's your dad's present to you."
Kevin shrugged. "Tommy's coming too. And I don't even like baseball."
"Still. It's a chance for you three to have some time together."
"I know. It'll probably be fun." He shrugged again and poked the centerpiece with his fork. "Just, you know, you could come too, if you wanted."
"We'll see." Saul signaled the waitress and smiled at his nephew. "Don't worry about it tonight. It's your birthday. Celebrate."
**
The front door slammed and Saul looked up, startled, just in time to see a blur pass the kitchen door. "Hello?"
The reply from the living room was an incoherent mumble, and Saul sighed, dried his hands, and went to investigate. "Hello, Kevin."
"Hi." Kevin was lying on the couch, glaring at the ceiling, face red and jaw tight and voice wavering slightly under the required politeness. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." Saul watched him for a moment and then glanced over at the front door. "How did you get here?"
"Mom dropped me off. She's taking Justin to his swim class." Kevin's eyes were still fixed firmly on a point on the ceiling. "Sorry."
"It's all right. I told you you could come over here whenever you wanted." Kevin nodded stiffly and hugged one of the couch pillows against his chest. Saul rubbed his forehead and debated leaving him alone before finally asking "What's got you so upset?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay." Saul nodded and stepped back. "I'll be in the office if you need anything. If you decide to watch TV, keep the volume down."
He went to his office and flipped through a few files, skimming and making notes in the margins but mostly listening for sound from the hall and keeping track of how much time had passed. If it got to twenty-five minutes he would go back out and offer snack food as an inducement.
At eighteen and a half minutes, though, there was a soft tap on the door and Kevin looked in. "Can I get a book?"
"Of course." Saul nodded and looked back down at his file as Kevin crossed over to the set of shelves that held Saul's collection of fiction, shorter and less sturdy than the heavy oak pieces stuffed with business texts and boxes of files, but considerably more appealing.
"Are any of these good?" Kevin asked, running his fingers over the bindings. Saul carefully hid a smile and reached for another folder.
"I tend to think they are, yes, which is why I keep them."
"Which one should I read?"
"What are you in the mood for?"
"I don't know. Something good."
Saul put his pen down and folded his hands on the desk. Kevin was frowning at the shelf like the books themselves were offending him. Saul often felt a familiar, sympathetic ache when he looked at his nephew, these days; he remembered being plagued by acne, furious with his body's awkwardness, convinced that the entire world was conspiring against him, and wanting nothing more than to be able to hide somewhere and lock the door. Of course, locked doors weren't allowed in William and Nora's house.
"You're fifteen now, Kevin?"
Kevin glanced at him, startled and defensive. "Yeah. Why?"
"No reason." Saul picked up his pen again. "Is the problem at home or at school?"
Kevin laughed a little, harsh and unhappy. "Everywhere. Everybody. It's like I'm an alien or...or I'm Charlton Heston in The Omega Man and they're all trying to get me."
"The bad guys in that movie were called The Family, weren't they?"
Kevin sighed and smacked his palm against the shelf. "It's not that, not them exactly, it's just...I don't know, I just wanted to be left alone for a while, without people digging at me and..."
Saul nodded and dropped his eyes to the file again. "Point taken."
"No." Kevin finally turned to face him. "No, that's not what I meant, Uncle Saul. Not...you're not like that. You're not the problem." He glanced around the room, at the books and the desk and tall oak shelves. "It's always good over here. It's quiet."
Saul smiled. "I prefer quiet too." Kevin managed a small smile back, and a nod, and Saul glanced at the shelf again. "You should try the Raymond Chandler. Start with The Big Sleep. If you like it, we'll watch the movie sometime."
"Bogart, right?"
"Yes." Saul made a note on his file as Kevin grabbed the book and moved over to the chair by the window. "I'll drive you home when you're ready. Take as long as you like."
**
Nora let Saul in, whispering "Thank you" and glancing warily first back over her shoulder toward the living room and then up the stairs. The house was unusually and, to Saul's mind, ominously silent.
"Is he upstairs?" Saul asked quietly.
"Kevin or William?"
"Kevin." At this particular moment Saul didn't give a good goddamn where William was one way or another.
"Yes. He's in his room." She laughed, a small and shaky sound, and pushed her hair back from her face. "When I knocked on the door he informed me that he's never coming out of his room again."
Saul could hear the mimicry around the emphasis in her voice, could imagine Kevin shouting that from his position of retreat. "He's upset, Nora."
"I know that," she snapped, looking up the stairs again. "He's my son, I think I can tell when he's upset even when he doesn't slam the door in my face, or even if I wasn't present for him and his father screaming at each other for a solid half an hour and saying the most awful..."
Saul rested his hand on her shoulder until she bowed her head, a soft sob escaping under her breath. "It'll be all right," he said quietly. "I'll talk to him, they'll both calm down...it'll be all right."
"They're both so..." She shook her head and he could see her steeling herself, straightening her spine and pulling the shaken pieces of herself together. "Well, thank you for coming."
"There was any doubt that I would?"
"Don't be ridiculous." She looked over her shoulder again and Saul could hear the TV being turned up louder, could picture William stabbing at the remote. "Just please go talk to him."
Saul tapped on the third door from the top of the stairs, and winced slightly at the raw, furious reply. "Go away."
"Kevin, it's Saul." He dropped the "uncle" reflexively; the boy was eighteen now, and if Saul could at all guess the tone of what William had said earlier, he'd be desperately in need of being treated like an equal instead of a wayward and rebellious child.
There was a long silence before the next words, softer and obviously thick with tears. "Just you?"
"Just me." Saul swallowed and looked at his hand, flat against the wood. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah. Okay."
Saul stepped into the room and carefully let his eyes track all the way around it--across the bookshelves and the window, over the history and calculus textbooks on the desk, the REM poster over the stereo and the scattered tapes and CDs that looked like they'd recently been thrown--before he looked at Kevin. He was lying on his side on the bed, turned toward the wall and hugging a pillow to his chest, his face carefully turned so it couldn't be seen.
Saul looked at the desk again and then walked over to it, tugging a paperback out from under the calculus book. "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead?"
"For English," Kevin mumbled thickly. "Mr. Townsend is cool, we get to read stuff like that." He coughed and turned onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. "Well, I think it's cool, but I'm a freak and a dork and a loser."
"Hmm." Saul flipped the book open and scanned a few pages. "What are you supposed to take out of it?"
"It's existentialism. Why are we here, why do we bother, what's the point." There was a slight pause, and Saul glanced over at him in time to catch a wobbly smile. "Or, well, I think he chose it because we just finished Hamlet and he wants to talk about the opposing structures."
"Ah." Saul set the book down and looked at him again, opening his mouth to ask a question, but Kevin kept talking, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
"But when we finish this, we're going to read The Big Sleep, which is cool because, you know, I've read it already, and I like it, and I bet I can come up with a good paper and everything."
"I'm sure you can."
"Maybe...maybe we could talk about it when I re-read it, or watch the movie again, or something."
"Absolutely."
Kevin glanced up at him, then looked down at the sheets. "I still have the copy you gave me. I have all of those books you've given me. They're like...what I read when I'm sad or whatever. Like old friends."
"I'm glad," Saul said quietly.
"I, um." Kevin's voice wavered and he coughed again, pressing his face hard against his arm for a moment. "I don't really want to talk about it yet, if that's okay? But if you wanted to stay here for a while, that would be...that would be good."
"Of course." Saul sat down in the desk chair and picked up the paperback again. "I'll stay as long as you like."
**
It was excessively sunny in the way that only a May morning in California could be, and Saul squinted out over the field of exuberant black-robed young people and their parents in pressed suits and floral dresses. The attendees of Stanford Law's graduation ceremonies seemed, by and large, to come from a standard mold.
But Stanford spared no expense on catering, which made a little bit of homogeneity more than worth it. Saul moved down the table filling up his plate, pausing when laughter came from behind him.
Kevin was standing with his robe folded over his arm, the purple hood of distinction cradled in the crook of his elbow. "Hungry, there, Uncle Saul? I thought Mom was making you all breakfast before you came up here today."
"She did," he replied, picking up a napkin, "but you have done the impossible, Kevin--she was so excited about your graduation, breakfast was completely inedible."
"Don't let her hear you say that." Kevin glanced back over his shoulder, looking for William and Nora in the crowd. "It's not that big a deal, really. I mean, I already graduated once. From here, even."
"If you're trying to get me to say again how impressive it is to have graduated double Stanford, Kevin, you're going to have to try harder."
"Except you just did, so I win." Kevin grinned and actually bounced on the balls of his feet before reaching over Saul's arm to grab a glass of lemonade.
Saul laughed. "They did a very good job of making you into a lawyer, clearly."
"That was the idea. But everybody says I was always like this."
Saul thought back through the years, picturing the succession of blue-eyed dark-haired boys Kevin had been, growing older but all with the same serious expression and stubborn will. "More or less, I suppose. You look more comfortable in a tie than you used to."
"I'm going to be wearing them for a long time." Kevin laughed and took a cheese cube from Saul's plate. "Did you see Dad after the ceremony? He ran over and shook my hand. I actually thought he was going to hug me for a minute."
"He's extremely proud." Kevin's grin grew even wider, and Saul returned it. "We all are."
"Dad told me there's a box of cigars with my name on it, back at the house. And Mom made a cake."
"I don't know if you can call it a cake. It may be beyond cake. The ur-cake." Saul shook his head and pulled a small wrapped package from under his jacket. "Sadly, I don't have anything edible or smokable, just this."
Kevin absently tucked the paper into his pocket as he unwrapped the present, laughing softly as he saw what it was. "To Kill A Mockingbird...is this a first edition? How would you possibly find a first edition?"
"I have my sources."
Kevin ran his thumb over the embossing on the cover. "You know I'm going into corporate law, so I'm probably not exactly going to be Atticus Finch."
"I don't have any worries at all about that."
Kevin looked at him for a moment, eyes sharp and blue and a little bright with tears, then stepped forward and hugged Saul tightly. "Thank you, Uncle Saul."
Saul patted his back and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a familiar twist of bittersweet pain in his chest--regret, love, loss, but today, mostly pride. "You're very welcome, my boy."